


Shampoo and Sheets

by KathyG



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock Holmes, Friendship, Gen, Hurt John Watson, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyG/pseuds/KathyG
Summary: In this gap-filler to LyricalSinger’s story, “You’ve Got a Friend,” which can be found onFanfiction.netandArchive of Our Own, Sherlock is most dissatisfied with John’s shampoo, and after having slept on Sherlock’s quality bedsheets for several weeks following his accident, John is dissatisfied with his own regular sheets and pillowcases.  Will Sherlock do something about it?  Thank you, LyricalSinger, for beta-reading my story!  And everybody, I highly recommend that you go read her story!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LyricalSinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalSinger/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You've Got A Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340162) by [LyricalSinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalSinger/pseuds/LyricalSinger). 



Sherlock gently slipped into his room, where he had helped John to bed a half-hour earlier. To his satisfaction, the former army doctor was deep in slumber. _Good,_ he thought. _The painkiller, anti-inflammatory, and sedative will ensure that he sleeps heavily, and it will be a while before his sleep pattern goes into REM mode. I have time if I hurry. His bedroom first._

Just as quietly, he slipped out his bedroom, his shoes clicking on the bare floor, and minced softly toward the flat’s front door. He crept up the stairs toward John’s bedroom on the third floor. Opening the door, he switched on the overhead light and approached the bed. Light flooded the bedroom. The blinds had remained shut ever since John’s accident, so he didn’t bother to check on them. 

Throwing back the bedcovers, Sherlock examined the sheets and pillowcases; at one point, he ran his fingers over them. Straightening up and putting his hands on his hips, he took a long look at the folded twin sheets and pillowcases stacked neatly on one of the shelves against the wall, and then, furrowing his eyebrows in consternation, shook his head. _This will never do,_ Sherlock thought, roughing his dark curly hair, as he turned back to the covers on John’s bed and rubbed his hand over the top sheet’s regular cotton surface. _These things are horrid!_

He scowled at the sheets and pillowcases on the bed and then the ones on the shelf. _These plain cotton sheets are simply unacceptable. Not only does John’s shampoo need to be replaced, so do his sheets and pillowcases!_

Immediately, Sherlock stripped John’s bed, removing the sheets and pillowcases from it, and then he moved over to the shelves to retrieve the stack of linens sitting there. Flipping the light switch off, Sherlock gently closed the door behind him with one hand while clasping the sheets and pillowcases against his chest with the other, and returned downstairs to their flat. He entered the bathroom, turned on the light above the sink, approached the tub, and picked up John’s bottle of shampoo off the shelf in the back corner of the tub. 

_Before I go to bed tonight, this goes into the dustbin outside, and so do his sheets,_ he thought. _When I pick up his prescription tomorrow, I will get him a better-quality shampoo he’ll be able to afford on his budget, and some new sheets and pillowcases for his bed._

Careful to make no noise, Sherlock laid the shampoo on the sheets and pillowcases, and then, leaving the flat, took everything downstairs to the front door. Once outside, he binned the lot. 

**XXXXXXX**

The next day, Sherlock entered the flat, a couple of bulging shopping bags dangling from both hands. He had been to the pharmacy to pick up John’s prescriptions, and then he had engaged in some extra shopping at Harrod’s. John was fast asleep on the sofa, having taken his pain medication earlier, and Mrs. Hudson was seated in the doctor’s armchair, keeping an eye on the convalescing doctor, her hands folded in her lap. The sunlight poured in through the windows, forming rectangles of reflected light on the floor at the edges of the room; a shadow covered most of the carpet that spanned most of the living-room floor. Twisting her upper back to face Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson raised a finger to her lips. Nodding, Sherlock entered the kitchen, where, setting the bags on the table, he rummaged through one of them to remove a small white paper sack containing John’s latest prescription. 

“Don’t say anything to John,” he whispered, as he handed the sack to Mrs. Hudson. “I’ve made some purchases for John that I don’t want him to know about yet.” 

Smiling Mrs. Hudson nodded. “I won’t,” she whispered back. Grinning, Sherlock returned to the kitchen and slipped a couple of bottles out of the same shopping bag. He took them to the bathroom, where he left them in the cabinet. He would move them to the shelf in the back of the bathtub/shower when John was able to wash his own hair once more. 

_This shampoo and conditioner will work as well as my own,_ he thought, gazing at the bottles, _and they aren’t nearly as costly as mine are. John’s hair is healthy now, and I intend to make sure it stays that way. He’s been taking his own baths as of late, and the day is fast approaching when he will be washing his own hair once more._

The cabinet door clicked shut as Sherlock closed it. _And now to make John’s bed before he wakes up._ Closing the bathroom door behind him, he returned to the kitchen, where he picked up the bags and exited via the hall door to go upstairs to John’s bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

John, who had taken off his shirt and taped a plastic bin bag over his cast with Sherlock’s help, set his crutches against the corner, and then he slowly and carefully removed his trousers and panties, and dropped them on the floor. He perched on the closed toilet lid and removed the boot, and then he gingerly stepped into the gleaming white bathtub and drew the shower curtains shut. Sherlock had already set up the plastic bath chair and laid a towel underneath it, and he had set the shower gel and a washcloth on the edge and turned on the water, leaving the shower head dangling so that his flatmate could reach it easily. All that John had to do was sit on the chair and reach for the gel and washcloth; he wasn’t yet able to take his showers standing up. 

It had been two weeks since John’s follow-up with Doctor Samja, and it was the first time since his accident three-and-a-half weeks ago that he was finally able to wash his own hair once more. He had been taking his own showers for the past week, sitting on the bath chair, since he hated having to rely on even Sherlock’s assistance. The only thing that Sherlock had been doing had been preparing the shower for his flatmate. As usual, Sherlock’s shampoo, which his flatmate had been using on his hair ever since his accident, stood on the shelf above the back corner of the tub at eye level while he was sitting down, but—where was his own shampoo? What was this new shampoo that rested on the shelf next to Sherlock’s own? And that new bottle of conditioner that clearly wasn’t Sherlock’s?! 

John shook his head. “Sherlock did this,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “He must have replaced my shampoo during one of his trips to pick up my prescriptions. Knowing him, he probably binned my old shampoo, too!” 

Taking a deep breath to control his temper, John stood up and, careful not to bend over too far, picked up the new bottle of shampoo. It wasn’t the same brand as Sherlock’s, but neither was it anything like the brand he usually purchased from Boots. _Well, I’ll try it,_ he decided. _I’ll see if it works as well as Sherlock’s. If it doesn’t, I am fully prepared to give him what-for, for replacing my own shampoo with one that doesn’t work any better!_

With another deep breath, John sat back down, reached for the dangling shower head, and rinsed his head. Sherlock had already tested the water, so it was neither too hot nor too cold, and its flow was neither too strong nor too weak. When John’s ash-blond/silver hair was dripping wet, he popped open the bottle and poured some shampoo into his right hand, which he then proceeded to lather through his hair. Once he had rubbed it all through his hair, he rinsed it out, and then gazed at the bottle of conditioner. For a long moment, he sat there, wondering whether to use the conditioner or leave it. 

At last, he sighed. _Sherlock’s heart is in the right place; I’ll give him that. I may as well try this new conditioner out._ Picking up the bottle, he rubbed some conditioner into his hair and left it in for a moment before rinsing it out. When he had finished washing his hair, John reached for the gel and washcloth, and proceeded to wash his body. The cloth’s soft movement felt good on his skin as he used it to rub the gel over his body. 

_This is the first time I’ve washed my own hair since my accident,_ he thought, smiling, as he rinsed the gel off his body, minutes later. _For too long, I wasn’t able to take my own baths or wash my own hair! And it shouldn’t be much longer before I can sleep in my own bedroom once more._ A rueful smile crept across his face. _It’s so easy to be spoiled, I know. I’m really going to miss Sherlock’s quality sheets and pillowcases. Oh, well, I have tolerated regular sheets all my life; I can tolerate them once more._ Rising to his feet and carefully stepping out of the tub, he reached for the towel that hung on the rack. _Meanwhile, I will see how well this new shampoo and conditioner both work._

**XXXXXXX**

John swung open the door and entered his bedroom, flipping the light switch. As his eyes adjusted to the light now flooding the room, he leaned against the wall, smiling. It had been five weeks since his accident and three-and-a-half weeks since his initial follow-up with Doctor Samja, and while he was still stuck with the boot on his foot, he was finally rid of the cast and ready to start physical therapy for his arm and shoulder. Furthermore, he was able to go up and down the stairs once more, using the lovely cane that Greg had given him; he had stopped using the crutch altogether. For the first time in five weeks, he was going to be able to sleep in his own bedroom! Sherlock had placed John’s pillows back on his bed earlier that day. 

_It was so good of Sherlock to offer me his bedroom while I was recovering, but he’s slept on the couch long enough,_ John thought. _And I’m so eager to sleep in my own bed once more!_ He took a deep breath and gazed down at his bed. _The only thing I’m going to miss are Sherlock’s sheets, but I’ll adjust. I’ll have to._ He ran his fingers through his silky-soft hair, and smiled. _I’ll have to give it to Sherlock: the new shampoo he bought me works as well as his own, and so does the conditioner. My hair was_ never _so healthy before he started washing it for me, and the new shampoo hasn’t damaged it in any way. No split ends anymore. And the price tag for both products will fit into my budget, thankfully._

After he had put on his pyjamas, John drew back the bedcovers. Suddenly, he froze, staring down at the bed in consternation. Those weren’t his sheets! 

Bending over, John reached out to rub his hand over the silky-smooth sheets and then the equally-smooth pillowcases encasing his two pillows. _These sheets—_ He swallowed. _These sheets are of the same quality as Sherlock’s!_ He peered intently at the pillowcase. Egyptian cotton, same thread count! 

Straightening up and squaring his shoulders, John approached the shelf on which he stored his sheets and pillowcases. His old regular cotton sheets and pillowcases were gone; all of them had been replaced with fine-quality Egyptian-cotton sheets and pillowcases identical to Sherlock’s. _Sherlock’s replaced all my sheets and pillowcases!_

Leaning against the shelves, John began to laugh. Only Sherlock would have the audacity to replace not only his shampoo, but his sheets and pillowcases as well! 

_He must have bought them for me once, while he was picking up my prescriptions,_ he thought. _And then he must have snuck up here into my room while I was sleeping, and replaced my sheets!_

John smiled and rolled his eyes as a mixture of exasperation and appreciation surged in his heart. _His heart’s in the right place,_ he thought, shaking his head, _and only Sherlock would think that this was the way to show that he cared. Oh, well, at least I won’t have to readjust to my plain old ordinary cotton sheets after all. Sherlock’s made sure of that._ Turning off the lights, he slid under the covers and pulled them up to his chin.


End file.
